Skin Deep
by Faithfulpurelight
Summary: All deep relationships start small.
1. Chapter 1

"You've got another hero asking for you."

"So what else is new? Just tell me they're not going to be as bad as Mount Lady. Creating something for her was almost impossible."

"Uh…" Jasmine hesitated. "They're not Mount Lady?"

Satou Kenshin swiveled his chair around to quirk an eyebrow at their piercer. Jasmine Bonner had moved to Japan from somewhere in the United Kingdom a few years ago, applied to the tattoo shop almost immediately from what he knew. She had moved up through the ranks quickly, from receptionist to piercer, and recently adding manager to her list of titles. Jasmine made sure the shop ran smoothly by handling the clients and booking appointments, on top of her own work. She was the reason they knew whether they were coming or going most of the time.

"Who is it?" he sighed, bracing for the worst.

"Bakugou Katsuki. Ground Zero."

"No."

"He was almost polite when he made the appointment. There's no reason not to take his money."

"Isn't he a kid? Still attending that school of his?"

"He showed me his provisional hero license," she shrugged. "It's a legal license."

"I don't want him."

"He wants your work. He asked for you by name, Satou."

"Fuck."

"If he causes issues, then we deal with it." Jasmine flashed a smile. "I like him. Homura tried to point out that short things come in good packages again when I couldn't reach one of the stacks of forms. I reminded him that so does poison. Bakugou started laughing."

"When's the appointment? Did he say what he wants?"

"He said yup and walked out. So, I'm going to go with yes?"

"Fantastic," Kenshin groaned, turning back to the cleanup he had been starting before she'd come over. "Go away, I'm shutting down for the night."

Jasmine laughed, like it was funny some kid who had been chained and muzzled after winning the U.A. Sports Festival his first year, had decided to come to him for a tattoo.

Maybe the shop should run without her. She was clearly warped.

Kenshin sighed again, staring at his work space for a moment. Whenever a hero made an appointment at the shop the artist was supposed to be made aware. It was one of the rules, put in place years ago when heroes started showing up in hopes of having their bodies inked. It helped to be able to research the hero, to see what their public persona was, to use as inspiration for the tattoo.

This time however, Kenshin wished he had been left in the dark. He wasn't looking forward to dealing with this hot-headed brat.

OoOoOoO

The day of Bakugou Katsuki's appointment arrived, and it was busy in the parlor. They had appointments booked back to back, in part because one of the other artists would be in late after an issue with transport. It left Kenshin with little time to stew and worry about his upcoming appointment with rage incarnate. He took on some of the extra appointments, scarfed down lunch between his own clients, and completely lost track of time.

"He's here," Jasmine called out as she sped past, heading to her piercing room. "Go grab him."

"Thanks," Kenshin growled as he stood. He could have sworn he heard her laugh as the door closed behind her, protecting her from the possible impending explosion. He would have to remember that she was hiding now when she asked for help cleaning up or something else later. He wasn't above revenge.

He crossed the distance to the front desk, immediately catching sight of his client. It was hard not to recognize Bakogou, currently leaning against the wood-and-glass table where Jasmine usually sat. The young man was muscled, blond, with a permanent scowl on his face, and had had his face plastered across the media for one reason or another since becoming a student at U.A. There was no doubting who was waiting for his appointment, and despite his twenty years of experience in the tattoo business, even after working on multiple heroes throughout the years, Kenshin's stomach did a flip.

"Bakugou Katsuki?I'm Satou Kenshin. You can follow me."

Eyes the color of blood snapped up to focus on him, pushed off the table to follow Kenshin back to his space. It felt a little like having a large predator at his back. Most of the heroes he worked with were friendly, if a little full of themselves. They wanted to talk about themselves, retell stories about some of their greatest exploits. Occasionally they wanted to be treated like a normal customer, asked more about his life. He knew how to handle all of them.

This kid though, he was strangely silent for someone portrayed in the media as loud and crass. His quiet demeanor wasn't calming though, as it could be with some of the older heroes. It was dangerous, almost lethal. The only hero that Kenshin could liken it to was Aizawa Shouta, Eraser Head. He'd once come with Present Mic when the much noisier hero had come in for an addition to the sleeve on his right arm. But that wasn't a direct comparison. There was something in Bakugou's eyes, in the way he carried himself, that spoke of a predator.

Honestly, Kenshin wasn't sure there was a direct comparison. None that he'd ever worked with, none that existed.

Most teenagers roughly Bakugou's age were bouncing, a bundle of nerves and energy ready to ricochet off the walls at the idea of getting their first tattoo. Their eyes went wide when they saw the tattoo machine, and if they stuck it out they tended to flinch when the needle pierced their skin. Instead, Bakugou was quiet, nothing like what he should be. To be fair, he could always burst into tears when the needle touched his skin.

Kenshin didn't like it, it felt like the blond was sizing him up, judging him and finding him lacking. He had been working for most of the kid's life, and while that made him sound old, which he was not, it still meant that this kid shouldn't be making him so nervous. He was just another client.

He led him into his room, motioning to the bed that had already been wrapped in plastic wrap in preparation for the ink and blood.

"Something you want for music?"

"Rock, metal. Whatever is good."

Kenshin tapped on a nearby tablet, choosing one of the channels that played a suitable mixture. It filtered through the speakers, filling the silence.

"Jasmine said that you already have something you want?" Kenshin folded his arms, leaning against the nearby counter. He didn't like being left in the dark about what he was supposed to be creating, didn't like that he had no say in what he was doing.

"Yeah. This." Bakugou held out a piece of paper.

Kenshin took the piece of paper with a snort. There were plenty of smart-asses who thought they could design their own tattoos, or had had a friend come up with some idea. The problem was, they rarely worked. If someone wasn't used to designing for tattoos, they often couldn't. It wasn't the same as sketching something on paper, or creating a painting. If someone wasn't used to working on a canvas that moved and breathed, they had no idea how to develop designs that flowed properly on skin. He wasn't expecting anything great.

The design looked simple at first glance. A fire raged within the confines of a triangle, the blaze originating from the shattered remains of a grenade. An explosion. Not the most original of ideas considering Bakugou's penchant for explosions was well known, but he supposed it could be worse. It wouldn't be too challenging for Kenshin to tattoo.

"I'm going to get this ready for transfer. Where did you want it, and about how big?" He glanced up at his client.

"That size, right here." Bakugou motioned to the space right over his heart. He didn't add anything else, didn't chatter like most would about why they had chosen the location and what the meaning behind the ink was. He didn't offer any explanation, any further information that would allow Kenshin a glimpse inside his head. Which was just as well. Kenshin would get this done and get the kid out of his chair quickly.

"Be right back," he shrugged, heading back out into the main room of the shop, currently blaring some pop music that Kenshin didn't know, and was more than happy to ignore. He didn't know which of the clients had requested that, but he wished Jasmine had control of the music again. The rock that she chose was more to his liking. At least Bakugou had his music taste going for him.

It was routine to start tracing the sketch onto the blue plastic, calming the nerves that danced under his skin. The blue paper, made with carbon for this specific purpose, would allow him to convert the sketch from paper to Bakugou's body. The tattoo was about four inches high and just as long across. It wouldn't take long to do, though it depended on if the client wanted it colored or not. He'd check as soon as he got back. After that he could clean up his space and head home for the night.

Kenshin shook his head, focusing on the design beneath his hands. It was habit to activate his quirk while doing this, to focus on the drawing and magnify his attention, almost like using a spotlight on the tiniest parts of the tattoo, illuminating it to make sure he missed nothing. He could see every pencil stroke when he did this, could see the individual specs of graphite if he wanted to. It was the reason his work was so sought after, this attention to detail, this ability to create what no one else could see.

The more he focused, the more he saw to the tattoo. Not everything was sketched the way Kenshin would've done had he been designing it personally, but he could see what the artist had been trying to create in the strokes and shapes on the page. The need to design, the itch to develop what he was going to be transcribing on his client's skin took over, allowing the artist in him to rise to the surface. Small pieces of the explosion took shape, shrapnel mixing with small symbols that the original creator had left behind, meant, he assumed, to reference people or moments in time that mattered to Bakugou. Several of the symbols repeated, and Kenshin imagined that this was intentional.

He wondered again, what this tattoo meant to the blond in his chair. There was no way it was just for bragging rights.

Kenshin pulled away, eyes adjusting back to normal to take in the whole piece. He smiled, looking forward to the tattoo, even if he wasn't looking forward to the client. It was possible there was something passionate behind that scowl and predatory gaze, this tattoo suggested that. But that wasn't his job to figure out.

"Alright," he stepped back into the room. "I'm going to place this on you, let you take a look. You tell me if you're okay with proceeding, got it?"

"Yeah, whatever."

Kenshin rolled his eyes. "Did you want this colored, by the way?"

"Yeah, in greens with hints of orange," Bakugou's voice was muffled as he tugged off the black sweatshirt he'd been wearing, taking the t-shirt with it.

Kenshin paused, caught off guard by the choice in color. "You want...This is an explosion, right?"

"Yes, old man. I want mostly shades of green, some orange. Whatever you think will make it work. Add shit like borax, copper sulfate, boric acid, they change the colors of the fire, then it has fucking green, right?"

"Don't call me that, I am not old," Kenshin snapped. "Fine, your fucking tattoo, brat. Make sure you like this." He tossed the transfer at Bakugou, growling to himself as he turned to mix the colors.

It was still his work, even if the customer got to make their own foolish decisions. And Bakugou wasn't entirely wrong, even if he didn't plan to tell the stupid kid that. He grabbed several shades of green, color leaching into the tattoo in his mind's eye. Spring green, a darker leaf green, a teal green, they would be able to stand on their own as well as meld together. Hints of orange came to mind he grabbed those as well, the light cantaloupe orange for the insides of the fire, mandarin orange, butterscotch for the background, tangelo for edging. He could mix with these two, create new colors as necessary. White would be needed last, but he grabbed it anyway. Canary yellows, acid green, they joined the bottles he had already pulled out.

He mixed the colors in small ink cups as he prepared, humming along to the song currently pumping through the speakers, losing himself in the process. It was almost a shock to turn back to the client and see spiked blond hair and red eyes, remember he was tattooing Bakugou Katsuki.

"This is good," Bakugou handed the transfer back. "You actually got shit I didn't know how to draw. It's tiny, but it's there, right?"

"...Yeah," Kenshin watched the young man carefully. Had that been a compliment? Bakugou was the artist? He hadn't expected that. "Lay there, we'll get started shortly. Do whatever you need to to relax."

He dropped into his rolling chair, glad for the wheels that allowed him to cross distances with just a quick push of his legs. Rhythm took over as he cleaned the spot over Bakugou's heart with distilled water and a paper towel, shaved the hair away so that it wouldn't cause issues during the tattooing, cleaned again with dettol antiseptic and another paper towel. He placed the transfer on the skin, pressing down firmly to allow the lines of each part of the piece to connect with skin. The dettol took care of the rest, and he pulled away the paper to see clean lines.

"Check the design in the mirror one more time for me."

"It's fine," Bakugou growled. "I already know what it looks like, it's where I want it or I would've said something before."

"Watch the attitude," Kenshin rolled his eyes, fed up with the arrogance, with being nervous that this kid who hadn't even been alive when he'd started working was going to explode. "Don't complain about the position later. Sit there and let me do my job, or go somewhere else."

Shit.

He looked up, expecting an explosion other than the one he was about to tattoo on his skin, to experience Bakugou's infamous temper.

"Fine," Bakugou growled through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. "Go ahead."

Kenshin looked at his client for a long moment, blinking in disbelief. He hadn't been expecting that from the infamous Ground Zero. The kid laying on the bed could create explosions from his palms, was said to be difficult to deal with and beyond the definition of nasty. No one would have pegged him as a hero given his violent quirk and his biting personality. And yet, he was laying there, still and quiet, waiting for Kenshin to start the work.

Well then.

He turned on the tattoo machine, comforted by the consistent humming, dipped it in the black ink cup, and began to ink the lines.

Skin reddened in irritation as the needle punched in and out, pushing ink under the skin each time. Blood and excess ink welled up, was wiped away by paper towel again and again. His quirk activated as needed, focusing on the small details he was so known for, each of those small symbols coming to life as ink breathed into them.

It was nice to have a client that was quiet, didn't talk non-stop or complain about the pain. Some clients were quieter, but almost everyone shifted and squirmed. It was almost like Bakugou was barely breathing as Kenshin worked, Bakugou's body was moving so little. The outlining of each component was done quickly, and Kenshin pressed away.

"Need a break?" he asked, glancing up at Bakugou's face again.

"I'm fine. Training hurts a lot fucking more. Go ahead."

Kenshin rolled across the room with a shove, opening the small fridge underneath his mixing counter to grab a water. He pushed back over, handing the bottle to Bakugou. "Here, drink while I get your colors ready."

With quick practiced movements he changed out the lining needle, releasing it into the sharps bin, which only had a hole large enough for the needles to slip through. In moments he had the mags needle out of its plastic casing and on the machine. He grabbed a new ink cup, filling it with water from the bottle he'd opened for the black ink cup before.

He dipped into the darkest of the greens, turning back to the work at hand. He glanced up, not bothering to hide the smirk that stretched across his lips as his gaze landed on the already empty bottle of water. He'd have to offer the kid more water to drink throughout the rest of the coloring.

The hum of the machine filled the air again, mixing with the rock music in a way that Kenshin found soothing, almost as though the tattoo machine added to the harmony. He dragged the needle across the skin, watching as it drank in the ink as though parched. Again, he wiped away the blood and ink that welled up, staining the paper towel just as he was the living canvas below him.

Colors came and went, spun out into the water each time, lightening in shades as he moved across the tattoo. The tattoo came to life before his eyes as he pressed pigments of varying shades under the skin. This was his favorite part, seeing the work become permanent, seeing the process, and being responsible for it. The only thing that came close was seeing that look of awe and wonder in the eyes of his clients when they saw the finished product, saw what they had dreamed of now turned to reality.

The passage of time had never affected Kenshin while he was working, when his whole focus was on his art. And with his client quiet and cooperative, surprising as that was, Kenshin found himself putting the finishing touches on the tattoo with the whites, just to bring the flame and details of the tattoo fully to life, far sooner than he had expected.

"All done." He pushed back, reaching for the dettol again. A new paper towel and dettol was applied, cleaning the tattoo a final time. He crossed from one end of the room to another with quick pushes of his legs, grabbing the plastic wrap and tape to cover and protect the tattoo for now. "Check it out before I cover it."

He stood, moving to grab the after-care card that he gave every client, keeping an eye on Bakugou out of the corner of his eye. The blond stood, eyes wide as he took in the tattoo that now rested over his heart. Kenshin had to admit, the kid had been right about the colors. It didn't look so bad.

"Leave the bandage until you get home, clean it then. You need to clean it regularly after that, with clean hands and a fragrance-free soap. None of that scrub crap, got me? And be gentle, the skin is tender, no matter how tough you are. Rinse the skin afterwards, and pat it dry with more paper towels. Don't rub it dry. Make sure you wear loose clothing, and clean it often since you'll be training I guess. You might see some color come off the first time you clean it, but don't worry, that's just the excess. Once it starts healing it's going to scab, don't scratch it like an idiot. Keep it moisturized with the Aquaphor, it'll keep the colors fresh. If you don't have it, buy it at the front desk when you pay. It'll heal in two to four weeks. Any questions, call us. If you screw it up because you don't listen, that's on you. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah." Bakugou rolled his eyes.

Kenshin crossed the distance between them before covering the tattoo in the protective plastic wrap and taping it on. He was beyond ready to go home. "You're all set. Jasmine can handle the rest of your bill."

Bakugou stepped away, grabbing his shirt from where it hung on the back of the door. He shrugged into it, but Kenshin caught the wince as he tugged it down, noted that Bakugou grabbed his sweatshirt instead of putting it back on.

"Have a good night," Kenshin smiled, turning away to start the cleanup. He didn't feel bad about sending the kid Jasmine's way. She at least claimed to like Ground Zero.

"This is good."

Kenshin turned to look at Bakugou again, sure he had misheard. "Excuse me?"

"I like it, you did what I wanted. I'll be back." Bakugou walked out of the room, heading for the front desk where Jasmine was shutting down for the night. Kenshin hadn't even realized that his client was the last one.

Wait...come back?!

It was some time later that Jasmine stepped into the room, the time having passed in a haze while he had cleaned up from his session, readied the room to be shut down for the night.

"He thanked me, said he'd be back when he had another design. I guess he liked you. Did you grab a picture of the work? I want to see."

"Fucking kill me," Kenshin groaned.

"Nope," Jasmine laughed. "This should be fun."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Bakugou, when did you get ink done?"

"Fuck off."

"No, let me see it!"

Izuku glanced up from buttoning his shirt, drawn by an almost magnetic pull to where Katsuki stood in front of his locker, glaring venomously at Kaminari. Izuku short-circuited for a minute, caught up in the fact that his boyfriend was standing there shirtless.

"Ink?" Izuku repeated under his breath, more to himself than anything.

He shifted closer, curiosity overriding his sense of self-preservation. Katsuki might be his boyfriend now, but years of history between the two of them had taught Izuku what that look meant. He could practically hear alarm bells going off, warning of the impending storm. That particular glare meant that Katsuki didn't want to be pressed. It meant tread cautiously and back off quickly.

"Come on, show it off! If I had one I know that I would!" Kaminari grinned.

Izuku didn't know if his other classmate was unaware of the danger, or didn't care about it. Maybe he really didn't know, that was possible. Izuku had known Katsuki their whole lives basically, so that wasn't a fair comparison. Either way it wasn't the smartest decision to needle Katsuki when he was like this.

"Bakugou has a tattoo?" Kirishima asked, stepping around the corner from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. "Woah. Why didn't you tell me, I'd have come with you!"

"Eat shit, Hair for Brains. No one fucking asked you."

It was a good thing that Katsuki's friends were numb to his insults and ignorant to his trigger temper more often than not, or he wouldn't have friends. Somehow the group of friends that called Katsuki theirs knew how to ignore his abuse and verbal explosions. It might mean he was stuck with their stupid questions, but for better or worse they had his back, considered him their friend.

"That's what friends do," Kirishima frowned as he passed by. "You don't need to prove you're manly by going alone."

"I don't have shit to prove!" Katsuki growled, shifting to address Kirishima. "It's just a tattoo. Both of you, fuck off."

Izuku's eyes widened as he finally saw what the others were talking about. The colors hit him first, vibrant and attention-grabbing, just like he imagined Katsuki would want. The lines were clean, deliberate, confident. It was everything that Izuku could have imagined for Katsuki, the chaos of an explosion contained in a small space. It was…There was no other word for it. It was stunning. It was Katsuki.

And he'd had no idea that Katsuki was even thinking of getting a tattoo right now, never mind that he'd done it. He had mentioned it once or twice in passing, but it had never been a serious consideration.

It was as if his body took over as his mind spun in a thousand directions. He grabbed his jacket and tie off the hook in his locker, shutting it with perhaps a little more force than necessary, given how the other three boys currently involved in talking - or in Katsuki's case, trying not to - about the tattoo went quiet.

"You okay, Midoriya?" Kirishima cocked his head, watching Izuku carefully.

"Yeah," Izuku smiled distractedly and stepped past the redhead, heading for the door. "Just thinking."

He breathed out as he stepped outside of the changing room, glad that most of the day was over. He could retreat to his room in the dorms and sort through the mess of emotions and thoughts cascading through him right now, and no one would ever realize something had been wrong.

"Ready?" Ochako smiled as she stepped out of the girls' locker room.

"Yeah, let's go," Izuku nodded.

"Deku? You might wanna…" Ochako gestured to his button-down. "Your shirt? I think you misbuttoned."

Izuku glanced down to see the buttons of his shirt done crookedly. He flushed, knowing that was thanks to Katsuki's shirtlessness before.

"Thanks."

OoOoO

Izuku paced his room, trying to sort through everything. Homework was impossible to focus on right now, and he wasn't really fit company for people, even Ochako. He just couldn't focus on a conversation long enough to be of any use to anyone. Which left him here, trying to work through the fact that his boyfriend hadn't told him about a tattoo that he'd taken the time to go and get.

He was shocked more than anything. Not that they told each other everything, but this was pretty big. Izuku would've talked to Katsuki about that kind of decision, but that wasn't how Katsuki functioned. Izuku would've sat down and discussed it, probably overly so, until Katsuki was ready to kill him.

That wasn't how Katsuki thought, however, and Izuku could accept that.

He wanted to know what the tattoo meant though, because he knew Katsuki well enough to know he wouldn't have made that kind of decision on the spur of the moment. It had to mean something. That was part of what hurt, he knew Katsuki had been thinking about it. The sheer amount of detail put into each line made that clear. Katsuki wouldn't have made the decision without thinking about it from every angle. As much as he had a tendency to jump into fights without coming up with a plan, this wasn't like that. This was marking his body, permanently. This was different.

And what about the colors? Oranges was easy given Katsuki's costume had orange in it, a warm color that Izuku had always associated with Katsuki, with summer days and explosions all at once. But the greens, what were the greens for? Fire could burn green with the right chemicals added, was that it? Just to say that his explosion burned the hottest?

The tattoo was placed over his heart, that couldn't be a random location either. Maybe it was to signify…

Short, sharp knocks cut through the silence, through his thoughts. He glanced at the door, smile tugging at his lips even as he crossed the distance. The noise attempted to emulate being quiet, but impatience leaked into Katuski's actions, as always.

Izuku opened the door, stepping back to let Katsuki into his room. It wasn't like Izuku was going to say no to his very attractive boyfriend visiting his room, especially late at night.

"I was going to tell you," he growled, stalking into the room. Izuku closed the door behind him. "It was too fucking late last night by the time I was back and I crashed. I was going to tell you. Don't be fucking mad at me for what those fucking idiots did."

"I'm not upset," Izuku smiled, warmth spreading through his veins. Katsuki had come here, worried that Izuku had been hurting due to his decisions. It was sweet, and it showed that they had both grown. "I want to know what it means though. Will you tell me?"

"Fine. Whatever. If that's what you want," Katsuki shrugged, tugging them both across the room. Katsuki flopped onto the bed, pulling Izuku into his arms. "It's a reminder to control my temper. It has you and me, that's the greens and orange. You're the reason I've learned to control my fucking temper anyway. But I'm still me, I still have that fire in me. And there are tiny symbols most people can't see, for everyone who's made my temper worse, everyone who's been hurt by it or helped, that kind of shit."

"Kacchan…" Izuku squirmed in his arms, turning to meet Katsuki's gaze. Katsuki's face was flushed and he was scowling, but there was a vulnerability to his eyes, watching Izuku with a wariness that he'd never admit to. "I love that. It's beautiful."

"You're fucking embarrassing, that's what you are. And no one else needs to know shit. For them, it just looks cool."

"I like being the only one who knows." Izuku smiled brightly, pressing a kiss to Katsuki's lips. "Tell me when you get another one?"

"First one I tell." Katsuki grinned, rolling Izuku underneath his body and bringing their mouths together again.


End file.
